


Kisses For Me

by RookieSand



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Annette's POV, F/F, Getting Together, POV First Person, Polyamory, Sexy Times To Be Had, There might be bonus chapters that aren't in her POV but it is in her POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:48:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25158751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RookieSand/pseuds/RookieSand
Summary: Annette returns home for the summer only to find out that her long time best friend and crush, Mercedes, has a girlfriend. Expecting to have another boring and unfulfilling, Annette is surprised when Mercedes asks her on a date.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Annette Fantine Dominic/Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Mercedes von Martritz, Annette Fantine Dominic/Mercedes von Martritz, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Mercedes von Martritz
Comments: 9
Kudos: 52





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> Notes: Mercie is only 4 years older than Annette.  
> Ingrid is in the middle of the two of them.
> 
> I tagged all their relationships because this fic will kinda float around all of them until they get together as a whole
> 
> Enjoy!

Mercedes and I have been friends since before I was born. Her family owns a small restaurant just down the street from the bathhouse that my family runs. Her mother and my mother have been close since they were girls. They grew up in this same neighborhood, just like Mercedes and I did. Since Mercedes is four years older than I am she kinda remembers when I was born. She says I was very crabby and cried all the time when I was a baby. Though, to be honest, I still cry a lot now. 

We used to do everything together. I don't have very many childhood memories without Mercedes in them. Our families would spend a lot of time together: holidays, vacations, Christmas, birthdays, etc. It was nice since I'm an only child. Mercedes taught me how to do a lot of things since my mom was usually busy taking care of the bathhouse. We were inseparable.

Summers were always the most fun. Since Mercedes and I were never in the same school, we would be busy doing our own things for most of the year. But summers were a free for all. Mercedes and I would play all day and then fill ourselves up with ice cream, spoiling our dinners. After that, we would run to the bathhouse and spend much too long in the hot water. Mercedes said that I killed one too many brain cells in the bathhouse and that's why I wasn't very good at math.

Of course, it was to be expected with our age gap that we would drift apart eventually. Mercedes had her high school friends and hanging around with a middle schooler wasn't exactly cool—even though I was really mature for my age. I didn't necessarily blame her, though I was very hurt at the time. I mean, what kid wouldn't be torn up about their best friend ditching them to go to a PG-13 rated movie with their cool teenage friends who drive? To be fair, I was twelve and she totally could've snuck me in. But I'm not bitter about it or anything!

But that's all frivolous stuff. What was really bad was that she kinda left me at the worst time. I mean, I was just hitting puberty and Mercedes had taught me everything about everything. I knew about, like, the basics: how babies are made, periods, having to wear bras, the whole enchilada. But I wasn't _ready_ for it. But even that aside, I was having an even more confusing time.

I was thirteen when Mercedes and I went to the bathhouse one evening. School was just about to end so Mercedes was asking me what I planned to do over summer break. I was being a bit cagey. I felt kinda sick and was already really sweaty. I had been fine up until we had gone in to change but something about being so close to Mercedes made me feel strange. This wasn't even the first time I'd felt that way either. There were some girls in my class that, when they talked to me, I felt my face heat up and my stomach tighten. I figured it was due to me being intimidated by them since they were somewhat popular and attractive girls. But I didn't know why I was feeling that way towards Mercedes. There wasn't any reason for me to feel anxious around her. And the anxiety I was feeling was tenfold to what I felt for the girls in class.

I remember her undressing and she turned to me to tell me she was ready to get into the bath. I looked over at her to say that I would be right behind but I froze. My eyes had wandered downward. I had always known Mercedes had a big chest—I'd been shoved into it enough times while we were hugging to know—but this was the first time that I had _noticed_. And my hormonal teenage brain nearly short-circuited. Never in my life had my face gotten so heated so fast. My stomach practically dropped to the floor and I looked away quickly, trying to compose myself. I could barely mumble that I would join her in a minute and she went off without me.

It wasn't until later that summer that I got my answer to what I was feeling.

I was helping Mercedes carry groceries to the restaurant when she spotted one of her friends waiting for her outside. I'd seen this friend plenty of times before. She and Mercedes had spent most of their summer together and seemed to be very close. She was often in the restaurant when I stopped by for meals.

As we passed by, the friend grabbed Mercedes around the waist and pulled her in for a kiss. Needless to say, my thirteen-year-old mind was blown. Girls could kiss other girls?! That was news to me. Two other things occurred to me then as well. Number one: I wanted to kiss Mercedes very badly. Number two: I hated the girl who was kissing Mercedes.

"Bitch," I said under my breath.

Mercedes pulled away from her friend, her face somewhere between trying to look nice but being irritated that I had said that. "Annie!" she snapped. "Don't say that word!"

I frowned at her, my fists balled up like I was going to punch her or something. "I'm not a kid!" I snapped back. "I can say whatever the hell I want! Fuck you, bitch!"

I took off running back to my house, hot tears already forming at the corners of my eyes. I could hear the friend laughing at me and Mercedes made a little disapproving click with her tongue. But I didn't care what they thought about me. Mercedes had betrayed me.

In hindsight, it was a poor move since I ran home with her groceries. She was going to have to come after me. But that's what I wanted her to do even if I didn't want to admit it.

My mom let Mercedes up to my room. I was watching videos on my computer at my desk, trying to drown out the world. My chest was still aching and I just wanted to forget about everything. She scared me when she tapped me on the shoulder. I ripped my headphones off and smacked her hand away from me.

"What do you want?" I half-screamed. My voice broke a bit at the end and I felt embarrassed that she'd riled me up.

She gave me a soft look that melted my little heart. "Can we talk?"

I sighed and crossed my arms. "If we must..." 

She went and took a seat on my bed. I scooted my chair closer to her but not close enough for her to touch me. Her eyes were soft as she looked at me and I could already feel my rebellious shell cracking under her gaze. I looked away to try and keep up my front.

"I see you've picked up some colorful language," Mercedes said with a small laugh.

I felt my anger flare up again and my face felt hot. "If you're just here to lecture me about my language, you can go. I get enough of that from my mom."

She sat back a bit as if reevaluating her next move based on my reaction. "No, no," she said, her voice just as soft as ever. "I don't care much about how you talk. I do care about why you mouthed off to me though. That's not like you."

"Well, what would you know about me?" I said bitterly.

Mercedes hadn't been ignoring me all summer exactly, but we didn't spend nearly as much time together as we usually did. It hurt. She was always busy. And I was bored. And I was sweaty and angry and nothing could go right. Not even her. She didn't know me anymore.

She tilted her head to the side. "I thought quite a bit because I've known you since you were a baby?"

My jaw twitched. "I'm not a baby, Mercie!"

Her eyes lit up. "Oh! I get it. You're a woman now. Is that it?"

"N-No!" I yelped, nearly falling off my chair. "That's not... I-I mean-"

"Annie," she said, cutting me off, "you can talk to me about anything, you know that, right? If you're hurting, please tell me."

I was caught off guard by the tenderness in her voice. Tears welled up in my eyes without my permission. I said I was still a big crier. Puberty certainly wasn't helping me on that front either.

"I don't know," I said quietly. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I keep getting all... worked up whenever I see girls nowadays. It's making me feel extra weird on top of everything else and nobody else feels that way. And I saw you kissing that girl earlier and it felt like my chest was being crushed. I don't know. I think my head's all messed up or something."

Mercedes smiled at me. "Oh, Annie. There's absolutely nothing wrong with you."

She got up from the bed and came over to my chair, placing her hands on the arms so she could lean over me. My heart was pounding as she looked at me and I knew I was blushing. I wanted to say something, or just move, but I was frozen to my chair. I had no idea what to even do.

"I think you're just gay, love," she said. Her voice had dropped to barely above a whisper and her expression was something unreadable to me.

"G-Gay?" I had heard the word a few times. Usually, boys at school throwing it around casually to each other to make jabs. I wasn't sure what it meant exactly. "Wh-What is that?"

"Ah... oh... I think you like girls. Um, you know, it's like in movies when a boy and girl fall in love. Except you just feel that way towards girls. And that's okay."

I started crying. I don't even really know what I was crying about. Maybe it was the fact that I finally knew what I was feeling. Or maybe it was because I had figured out that maybe I could spend the rest of my life with Mercedes and that would be okay. I didn't know.

"Shh..." Mercedes gently brushed a lock of hair behind my ear before wiping at my tears. "It's okay if you need to think about it too. If you have any questions or just need to talk, I'm here for you."

And I did think about it. For years in fact. Trying to convince myself that I wasn't gay. Then trying to see if I was. Even though Mercedes said I could talk to her, we never did speak about it again. It just didn't feel like I could talk to her since all my feelings revolved around her. I had to figure it out on my own so she didn't influence my thoughts on anything.

Of course, I eventually caved. There really wasn't any way around it. I was a bonafide lesbian. As much as I tried, things weren't going to change. So I let myself take a deep breath for the first time in what felt like forever.

And I knew one thing. I love Mercedes.

That in mind, it wasn't strange when I told Mercedes how I felt about her three years later. I'd read so many romance stories and watched so many movies to make sure I was right. I knew that what I felt for Mercedes couldn't be anything but love. Mercedes was the center of my whole world and I wanted to hold onto that forever.

We were watching fireworks from the roof of her house. Since she had gone away to college, she spent more time with me in the summer since none of her college friends lived in the area. She was also helping more at the restaurant so she spent more time there anyway. The view of the fireworks certainly could've been better, but I wasn't complaining. There weren't any crowds and Mercedes and I were sharing a blanket and a plate of fried pickles her mother had whipped up. Her siblings had finally gone back inside after watching with us for about five minutes. I was alone with Mercedes. As the show ended, I turned to her. 

"I love you," I said quietly.

Mercedes looked at me. At first, she looked confused like she hadn't heard me and she was going to ask me to repeat myself. Then a small smile broke out on her face. It wasn't a welcoming one and I could tell that it hid a lot more behind it than she was willing to let on. 

"Annette," she started slowly, "I love you too, though I know it's not in the way that you're suggesting. Please don't take this the wrong way, but you're sixteen. You're in high school. You've got a lot of things to figure out still."

"B-But I know I love you!" I protested in earnest. I mean, how could I not? Mercedes was the only one I had feelings for.

Her smile softened and she gently brushed her hand against my cheek. "I'm very sure you do." She looked away and I knew she was trying to find the words to let me down gently. "You're just... my little Annie," she continued softly looking back at me. "The sweet, little round-faced girl who's been following me around since she could walk." To add insult to injury, she pinched my cheek. "I'm sorry, Annette. I just don't feel the same way."

I was crushed as one can imagine. Mercedes had hit me with a one-two punch to the gut. I held it together until I got home where I bawled my eyes out and ended up passing out from sheer exhaustion.

I didn't understand how she couldn't possibly like me back. We were perfect together. At the time, I thought that our age was nothing. I was mature and smart. I could certainly hold my own. How could she not see that?

Now, I understand her completely. Being the age she was when I said that... Well, if a sixteen-year-old said that to me, I don't know what I would've said either. Just thinking about how embarrassing that was disables me for days on end.

Unfortunately, it didn't stop me from pining after her. To this day, I still love her more than anyone else. My feelings have quieted down now that I'm older. Being in my teens had set them ablaze while turning twenty had tamed them into something manageable. They're much softer in my heart when I see her, but they've never quite gone. 

Seeing Mercedes is all I can think about as I head home from school for the summer.


	2. Bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a Coke

Summer vacation has just begun. I'm unpacking my things into my bedroom after coming home from university. Mom also sent me up with some cleaning supplies. Apparently, she only dusted once or twice since I left. I can't blame her. My room is in the attic and requires some effort to climb into. For a woman her age, there's no way it would be easy to make her way up there often. Perhaps it's not the safest room ever but I get plenty of privacy. So I'm really not complaining about the effort.

I already spent the first twenty minutes dusting everything off and then struggling to get my sheets onto the bed—I had gone without them the night before since I couldn't be bothered. And after doing those two little tasks, I'm sweating my ass off. It's a lot hotter than I remember it being up there; and, even with it still being early in the morning, my room is sweltering. I pull my desk chair over to my fan and sit in front of it to try desperately to cool off. It doesn't do more than remind me that I'm drenched.

Movement outside my window catches my attention and I go over to open it up. The air outside is warm and humid. I'm suddenly grateful for the temperature of my bedroom. From my window, I can see Mercedes's restaurant down the street. I can just make out the standee in front of the shop marking them as open. I can't wait to grab a bite to eat. My stomach grumbles in agreement, the thought of food bringing it to full attention.

Once my room is clean and I have unpacked to my liking, I swing downstairs again. I don't see Mom on my sweep through the main floor so I head down the next flight that leads to the bathhouse. It's still a bit early in the day so the bathhouse has yet to be opened to the public. I take a peek into the main lobby area but she's not behind the desk back there either. Finally, I go to check the back office.

I head down the narrow hall, that is not large enough for two people, and take a sharp left to the open office door. Mom is sitting at her desk shuffling through some papers. Her hair is the same orangey color as mine, but it's graying at the roots from years of stress. Her eyes are glued to what she's doing. She's always been like that. So focused and attentive to her work that she doesn't notice me standing in the doorway. 

"I'm heading out," I say quietly as to try and not startle her.

She still jumps a bit and then looks up at me from over her glasses. Her eyes look a little foggy and I wonder if she's been sleeping properly. "Already?"

"I was going to grab a bite at Mercie's if that's alright," I say gently. "But I'll be back before we open."

She nods. "Of course. Don't go making any trouble for them. Tell her I said hi." Her head dips back down to her work before she even finishes her sentence and I know I've already lost her attention.

I retrace my steps out from the office and head through the backdoor to the street. The hot air is worse now that I'm fully submerged in it, the humidity sticking to my skin. I can already feel myself starting to get sweaty again. I make my way quickly down the street, trying to stay underneath awnings of other businesses as I go, for the meager coolness of shade. Maybe I should get ice cream at Mercedes's so that I can cool off with something yummy. My stomach certainly has no objections to the idea.

The door to the restaurant opens with a familiar chiming of bells. I'm engulfed by the sweet, heavenly gift of air conditioning and get goosebumps from the temperature difference. The smell of cooking food and sanitizer also hits me like a wall on my way in. All of it wraps me up into one big ball of nostalgia. I missed this place.

"Welcome!" I hear Mercedes's voice call from the back. "Have a seat wherever you'd like."

I take a seat in a booth near the edge of the room.

It's a cozy, little restaurant. When I was younger I used to think this place was giant, but now I know that it's not all that impressive. There are five tables and the walls are lined with booths than can fit anywhere from four to six people. Each tabletop is polished and glossy. Salt and pepper shakers accompanied by other often requested condiments sit out at each one. I'm the only one in the restaurant at the moment, but that's not surprising. The restaurant isn't usually busy until the lunch rush.

Mercedes comes out of the back. She's wearing the standard fare: a grey t-shirt, jeans, and a black apron. The most startling thing about her appearance is her hair. It's cut into a bob that just reaches her chin. She didn't tell me she did that and it certainly wasn't cut like that when I left in the winter. Her face lights up when she sees me.

"Oh, hello!" she greets, her voice as smooth and buttery as always. She sidles up to the table and leans against it. "When did you get back?"

"Last night," I respond. "It was late though, so I went right to bed."

Mercedes taps me on the head with her pen with a soft, "Mmm." She's probably a little upset that I didn't tell her I was back last night, but I was too tired to do much of anything after moving all my things out of my dorm. I smile at her and she seems to loosen up again.

"Well, we should catch up," she says. "I'll take a break after I get your food ready."

"Of course," I say.

It's been a few months since we've seen each other and our texts have been sparse so it'll be nice to hear what she's been up to while I've been gone. Despite us having grown closer again after both becoming adults, we never got into the habit of texting or calling each other very often. We didn't do it much when we were younger either since I wasn't allowed to have my own phone until I went into high school. Plus, we've always just been a short walk away so it seemed silly to call if I could just sneak out. 

She nods and pulls out her order pad. "Alright. What'll you have? On the house, just this once. Since I'll be getting a free bath tonight." She winks at me and I can't help but laugh.

I look over the menu she brought me. It's kinda useless since I know everything on it front to back. The restaurant serves a little of everything with no cohesive theme. You can get anything from tacos to alfredo to fried rice. Mercedes's grandfather, who started the restaurant, had said he just put on the menu what he liked to eat and that was the end of it. I've always been a fan of their dessert section but I know I should get a proper meal.

"How about... a bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a Coke," I finally say.

"Easy on the onion, heavy on the pickle, extra ketchup and mustard?" she asks as she jots down her note.

I smile. "You know me almost better than I know myself."

Mercedes chuckles to herself and picks up my menu. "You're the same as always. It'll be right out." She pats my head before taking off across the restaurant.

I watch her disappear back into the kitchen before leaning my head in my hand. The same as always, huh? Well, I guess that's to be expected. Even at twenty, I guess I'm not shocked that she'd still see me as a kid. At least I was only half hung up on the idea of her somehow figuring out she liked me this summer. I let out a soft sigh. The morning has only proved that my being away for another semester hasn't changed much around here. Truly a blessing and a curse.

Mercedes reappears with my drink in her hand. She sets it down on the table with a kind smile. "Anything else I can get you while you wait?" she asks me. She reaches out and brushes my hair behind my ear. "Mozzarella sticks? I know you like those."

She forces me to look up at her when her hand completes its path from my ear to my chin and tilts my head up. I pull away from her and roll my eyes. "I'm not sad about anything," I say knowing she's offering because I look down. Mozzarella sticks are my true comfort food. "Just came home to find things exactly how I left them."

"Was your mom busy this morning?" she asks, tilting her head to the side. 

"Yeah, but that's nothing unusual," I respond with a shrug. "She says hi, by the way." Mercedes gives me a slight nod in acknowledgment. "And you, well, I guess you changed a bit. You cut your hair."

She reaches up and runs her hand through her hair as if self-conscious about it. "Oh. Do you like it?"

I take a look at her again. Mercedes could have any haircut and I know I'd still find her attractive. This particular one does look very good on her though. It frames her face nicely and gives her a more mature look. My eyes meet hers and my heart skips a beat. I look away as I feel my cheeks heating up.

"I-I do. It looks good on you," I say, barely able to keep any semblance of composure. I curse myself quietly, wondering why I can't just look Mercedes in the eye for once in my life.

She grins. "I'm glad that you do." And then she bounces off.

I sigh as I watch her disappear back into the kitchen once again. I can still feel everywhere she touched me and it's making me sweaty. Why was she being so touchy-feely anyway? It's not like we always used to be like that. I try not to think about it too much.

As I wait, Mercedes's younger brother, Emile, comes from the kitchen carrying a small plate of mozzarella sticks. He sets the plate in front of me and then takes one for himself.

"My tip," he says quietly as he takes a bite.

Emile is my age but we've never been as close as Mercedes and I are. He's got the same wheat-colored hair that Mercedes has and their faces look similar but I'm not attracted to him in the slightest. I'm sure our moms were disappointed that we never hit it off because we could've fallen in love and gotten married or something. I mean, we did spend a lot of time together in school since we were in the same grade and both didn't have very many other friends. But outside of it, I preferred spending my time with Mercedes. There's nothing really wrong with him personality-wise either. He's a little quiet but not quiet in like a shy way. He doesn't like to talk much but he's constantly taking in all the information he hears. Our relationship nowadays is mostly us giving each other knowing gay nods, though he does text me quite frequently. We have the same taste in music and anime.

"Have as much as you like," I say with a gesture to the plate. "Mercie only sent these along because she thinks I'm sad."

As I say that, I grab one of the sticks off the plate. I am hungry so I'm not going to pass these up out of pride or something. I take a bite of it and the cheese stretches between the stick and my mouth. Emile laughs at me as I struggle to reign it in, the hot cheese burning my mouth and my fingers simultaneously. I finally get it under control and get to enjoy the greasy, breaded cheese. I haven't had them in a while and they're just as delicious as always. 

Emile and I have both finished our sticks. He wipes his hand on his apron. "So, are you doing okay?"

I nod and roll my eyes at him. "Yes, Emile, I'm fine. You guys worry about me too much."

"Oh, well, I thought maybe you'd be a little more upset. But I guess if you say you're fine, then it's fine."

"Upset?" I ask, tilting my head to the side.

"Yeah, about Mercedes's—"

"Emile!"

He's cut off by his mother calling him from the kitchen. He rolls his eyes and sighs. "Later," he says swiping another stick from the plate and then making his way back to the kitchen.

I blink in confusion. What was he about to say about Mercedes? It sounded like he said it with a possessive. Mercedes's what though? My mind tumbles with thoughts until my food finally arrives.

I'm almost drooling when Mercedes comes by with the burger. The sight alone is enough to make my mouth water, but the smell is holding me hostage. She sets the plate down in front of me and then pushes a smaller plate of fries up next to it. She's also brought me a refill on my drink. I take in my meal in its entirety only for a second before pouncing on the burger.

Mercedes sits down across from me in the booth and smiles brightly. Even though I'm stuffing my face, I'm still watching her just like I always do when she's in the room. She's as beautiful as she always is and my heart does a flip again when her eyes catch mine.

"Since you're eating we can start off talking about me!" she says.

I nod for her to continue. I don't have much news to share anyway since the last semester was rather uneventful. I don't know if Mercedes wants to hear about how I went to class every day and studied pretty much every night. Or if she does, I can explain it all in about two sentences. Besides, I'm more interested in hearing about her anyway.

"Things have been going well," she starts. "Mom's been pleased with my work around the restaurant. She's finally considering letting me take over."

"That's great, Mercie," I say through a mouthful of fries. I quickly wash it down with my drink. "Seriously, I'm so happy for you."

She raises her eyebrows at me and walks her fingers across the table to grab my hand. Her thumb runs over the top of my hand and it takes everything in me not to shiver. Our eyes meet.

"And what are your thoughts on the bathhouse?" she asks.

I hadn't really considered what would happen to the bathhouse when Mom either got too old to work or kicked the bucket. As long as I kept it clean and comfortable, I could foresee it being as profitable a venture for me as it was my mother. Then again, I have no plans of succeeding it. The stress alone sounds horrible, not to mention some of the customers we get. Though, Merecedes's tone implies she's asking me to stay in town with her. I wouldn't mind that part so much.

"Um... well, I haven't thought much about it," I confess. "I suppose it wouldn't be the absolute worst to stay in town and take it over."

Mercedes smiles even though my answer was wishy-washy at best.

I take another sip of my drink to hide my face. I know I'm blushing because my face feels so hot. And with my pale complexion, it's not easy for me to hide. Even so, I'm not that embarrassed about it. Mercedes seems like she wants to stay in town as well. And with me no less.

I want to tell her I love her again. I open my mouth but she jumps in first.

"Oh! And I almost forgot to mention," she says with a new bright expression, "I have a girlfriend."

I stop in my tracks, my heart seizing up at the words. So that's what Emile was trying to say. It takes me a second to recover and I know that the shock is showing plain as day on my face. Her having a girlfriend was kinda the last thing I was expecting her to say. Though, it's not like it's surprising either. She's a beautiful woman who could have anyone she wants.

"O-Oh," I finally manage to choke out, "wow. Th-That's great!" I try to hide my disappointment as best I can.

Mercedes nods a bit. She probably knew how I would take the news before starting this conversation. My guess is that all that restaurant talk was just a way to make me comfortable before she hit me with the storm.

"We met about four months ago but we've only been dating for two. Can I show you a picture of her?"

I take a large gulp of my drink to clear my throat. "Yeah, sure." I don't really want to see her girlfriend but I feel like it would be rude if I said no.

Mercedes pulls out her phone and quickly finds the picture. She hands her phone off to me with a small smile.

I hold the phone close to me, cradling it in my shaky palm. It's not a great photo, to say the least. Mercedes and another girl as standing side-by-side with one arm around the other's waist. The other girl is wearing a snapback, baggy cargo shorts, and one of those tank tops that muscle-bros wear to show everything off but technically still wear a shirt. I can vaguely tell she has bright blonde hair but her face is mostly covered in shadows. It's hard to pass judgment either way but I'm leaning more towards that she looks very cute. And probably more so in person. What I can definitely tell is she's well-muscled. I hand the phone back to Mercedes.

"She looks cute," I say. I'm not sure what my other options are. I don't really want to insult Mercedes's girlfriend. 

"You think so?" Mercedes asks me with a bright smile. "I was hoping you would!"

I'm not exactly sure what to say to that. I wouldn't think that Mercedes needs my approval on girls she dates. She certainly has never cared in the past. Besides, I don't think our tastes overlap that much. Her girlfriend isn't half-bad to look at but I have always preferred girls that looked a bit more like Mercedes. Well, I have also always preferred girls that _are_ Mercedes so I don't know if that means much. Still, I'm not sure I would've given this girlfriend of hers a second glance if I were to see her out. Though, I'm not so heartless as to say she's undateable by my standards. She could have a perfectly fine personality.

"Um, can I ask why?" I ask tentatively. I'm still unsure about where this conversation is going.

"Oh, well, it's just that if you like her then that's good!" she says simply.

I'm confused but, then again, there are many things about Mercedes that have always baffled me. If I had to hazard a guess, she was probably concerned that our friendship would be strained if I didn't like her girlfriend. Maybe she plans on spending lots of time with me this summer and perhaps her girlfriend will be sharing some of that time. That's fine I guess. I can live with that. I nod slowly as the idea of Mercedes having a girlfriend becomes easier to swallow.

Mercedes tells me a few more basic things about her girlfriend. Her name is Ingrid, she's right in the middle of our ages, she likes to play card games, and she likes horses. I've finished my meal by this point and rest my head in my hand. The shock I felt at the beginning of the conversation has waned and I am settling into the idea now. Her girlfriend sounds like a very low-key kind of person. She might even be fun to hang out with. Plus, I can tell Mercedes really likes her. And at the end of the day, I can live with Mercedes being happy.

Mercedes seems to realize I finished my meal and am itching to go—the bathhouse opens up soon. "Oh, I'll clean up. Are you free to go out sometime this week?"

I nod. "Yeah, sure. I can be free whenever as long as I tell my mom."

"Okay. We can probably go out tomorrow night. I'm busy tonight and I'll have to check with Ingrid before I make solid plans. I'll text you the details once I know them. Is that okay?"

"Yep, yep!" 

We get up from the table at the same time and she pulls me into a hug. I'm suffocated in her chest just like normal and I can't help but wish I'd been graced with just a few more inches of height. She lets me go and I take a deep breath.

"It's a date then," she says gently and ruffles my hair. "I'm so excited!" She takes all my dirty dishes and saunters off toward the kitchen.

I can't help but stand dumbfounded for a moment. She called it a date, which I'm sure she meant in a friendly way. But I still can't get my heart to settle down. I run through the conversation to try and pinpoint any other indication that it would be an actual date. But then I remember she has a girlfriend and I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me all over again. There's no way it could be a date. 


	3. What's In A Date?

It's a date.

At least... I think it's a date? It's been a while since I've been on a date. But this sure as hell seems like a date.

Mercedes picks me up at my house around six. I climb into her car only to find that she's rather dressed up for what I thought was going to be a casual dinner between friends. It's nothing terribly fancy—a nice flowy shirt and a skirt—but I can't help but feel like she went a little above and beyond for one of our hangouts. It makes me feel like I underdressed. Though, I suppose my overalls aren't necessarily ugly or super casual. They are one of the nicer things I own. Even so, Mercedes failed to mention she would be dressing so nicely.

Our drive begins. Mercedes hasn't said much outside of a casual greeting and asking me how I am. I'm a little nervous if I'm being honest. The air in the car feels different than usual. Mercedes seems to be a little on edge herself which is certainly not helping my nerves. I hope I haven't done anything to upset her. I'm starting to get sweaty thinking about if she's mad at me or not. Of course, there's also a good chance that Mercedes has something else on her mind entirely. It's not like many of her spare thoughts are about me...

The radio is playing but Mercedes asks me what I want to listen to. I shrug and say whatever. If she knew I still listened to a lot of anime openings and j-pop, she might tease me like when were kids. Besides, anything on the radio is bearable by my standards. I really don't care. She puts a CD into the player.

The first few notes of the first song make my face turn bright red. I immediately eject the disc.

"No, no, no!" I say as I snatch it from the player. I wave it through the air incredulously. "You still have this?!"

Mercedes laughs as she glances over in my direction. "You said you'd be fine if we listened to whatever! I thought we could relive some old memories."

I'm sure she's thinking it's cute that she got me all flustered, but I can't help it. This particular CD is incredibly embarrassing. I had given it to her right before confessing that I loved her; I had been too heartbroken to remember to take it back when I left. It's a CD of me singing covers of love songs as well as an original one at the very end. At the time, I thought I was hot shit for making this. Now it's probably one of the most embarrassing things I've ever brought into this world. I want to smash it into a thousand pieces, but I catch a glimpse of the art I drew on it. I remember how long I spent getting it to look just right. Maybe it is embarrassing but I poured my heart into it. And Mercedes kept it... She probably knew how much it meant for me to give it to her.

I sigh and relent. I push the CD back into the player and we listen to the opening notes once again. My voice sounds so much younger and squeakier. I have a fairly decent voice but I've improved it over the years. Young me was at least trying her best. The quality of the music isn't too bad either. I remember recording in my closet while Mom was out of the house so there is hardly any background noise. Overall, as embarrassing as it is, I think I did a pretty bang-up job for sixteen.

"Do you like... listen to this a lot?" I ask as we get into the next song. The question had pricked my mind since Mercedes seemed to have the disc ready to go.

Mercedes shakes her head. "I haven't listened to it in a while. But I keep it in a safe spot in case I want to listen. Or if I just want to embarrass you."

I know she's making a jab at me, but my head has left the building and I'm numb to it. I'm reeling from the fact that she's kept it for all of these years. She said she keeps it in a safe place. She knew exactly where it was. My chest feels fluttery.

"It was a thoughtful gift," she murmurs. "I know it took a lot of time to put together and I'm so happy that you would spend so much time on a gift for me."

I don't know how to respond and my face is on fire. I look out the window of the car figuring that if I don't look at Mercedes my heart will settle again. My mind is still spinning though as I watch the world fly by. Mercedes knows just how to work me up. I wish more than anything that I could kiss her, but I dig my nails into my thigh to fight the urge. She has a girlfriend so I'll have to respect that.

We arrive at the restaurant shortly. We only got through about five songs on the CD so we didn't reach the pinnacle of my embarrassment, the original song. Mercedes parks the car and we get out. As I go to shove my hands into my pockets, she grabs one of them in hers and laces our fingers together. I blush brightly.

"Ah, Mercie?" I say, clearly caught off guard. I, of course, also don't pull my hand away. There's no way I could. 

"Yes?"

Her voice is in a singsong that makes my heart flutter. I just shake my head in response. I guess if she wants to hold hands for no reason, I'm not going to say no. I mean, I've been wanting to hold her hand for my whole life. I might as well just take what I can get.

The restaurant is pretty fancy. It's beautifully decorated and the interior smells amazing. It's nothing 5-star but it's upscale enough for me to think that it's going to cost us a pretty penny. The other patrons aren't dressed down either. I suddenly feel like I'm horribly out of place. And maybe Mercedes should've told me this is where we were going when she made us plans. I had dressed for us to go to the movies or something and half expected Ingrid to be tagging along.

We're seated at a table that Mercedes had reserved and given our menus. As I expected nothing is cheap or, at least, my version of cheap. Mercedes looks over the menu as if this doesn't bother her in the slightest. I, on the other hand, don't particularly have the money to spend ten dollars on a salad.

"I'll pay so get whatever you want," Mercedes says.

I sit up straight wondering why I'm so easy to read. Or maybe she was planning on paying the whole time and just didn't let me know. My head is swirling and I'm starting to feel a little sick.

"You don't have to," I say quickly. "I know we're friends but, like, this is a little expensive to let you pick up my meal."

"Nonsense," she says with a wave of her hand. "I'm the one who asked you out."

My stomach flips. "Is this... a date?"

She looks confused. "Yes?"

I nearly fall out of my chair. So it _is_ a date. My heart can't take any more of this. Mercedes asked me on a date and I didn't even know. I wore overalls to a date. A date to a fancy restaurant. I push down my rising panic to address a more pressing matter.

"But you have a girlfriend so this isn't like... a thing, right? Like, we're out as friends, yeah?"

"Oh... uh... no, I asked you out on a romantic date." It seems like she's saddened by my reaction but I'm not exactly sure how she wanted me to respond.

"But Ingrid," I press.

"She knows that I'm out with you and okayed it."

"And she's... just okay with that?"

Mercedes nods. "Yeah. I've been pretty honest with her about perhaps wanting another partner so long as she agrees."

I take a moment to take that in. It seems like a pretty heavy topic for her to just drop on me. I mean, Mercedes wants another partner? How does that work? And does that mean that I'd have to like Ingrid too? I've never even met her before. I mean, I did say that she was cute but, like, to humor Mercedes. I've never even liked another girl like I like Mercedes and I don't know if I could like Ingrid the same way and that doesn't seem particularly fair to her and what if Ingrid doesn't even like me and—

I pause and take a deep breath to calm my spiraling thoughts. I suppose Mercedes didn't specifically say _I_ was going to be this other partner so I let that thought calm me. She's never been particularly interested in me before so I don’t know what could have possibly changed to make her like me now. Maybe she was just taking me on a date to see how Ingrid would respond. I suppose that's okay.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I thought you understood this was a date. That's what I called it. I've never called us going out that before because I didn't want you to get the wrong idea when we were younger."

Now that she mentions it, that's true. She always carefully chose her words when she talked about us spending time together or what have you. I guess I just didn't think too hard about it. Or maybe I just didn't want to get my hopes up.

"If you're uncomfortable, we can leave," she adds. "I don't want to ask you to participate if you have no interest."

I chew the idea. I guess maybe I'm a little uncomfortable but not enough for me to suggest we leave. I mean, I'm on a date with Mercedes. I should be stoked. I take another long breath to steady myself. I should just enjoy the time we have together. Nothing ventured nothing gained. Or whatever.

I shake my head. "Um, no... it's fine actually. If you're positive that Ingrid is okay with it..."

"Absolutely."

I nod.

Dinner passes by only slightly awkwardly. I'm relaxed by the time our meals arrive. As usual, Mercedes is good at calming me down. There's nothing about this date that is different than any of our other hangouts. Mercedes talks to me just like she always has. She answers all of my questions about the situation we're in. She even gives me a name. Polyamory.

Mercedes wanting multiple partners doesn't seem odd to me either now that she's brought it to my attention. She was never a fan of love triangles and always wondered why they all couldn't be together. She often talked about how she loved multiple people even when she was happy in a relationship with one of them. It was a very sore subject and the reason why many of her relationships didn't last very long. We never talked about it in depth—maybe do to me being so young—but I'm sure that it was rough going for her. 

Once she has answered all the questions I can think of, we fall into more casual conversation. She asks me about school, and I tell her about my horrible teachers. The conversation flows naturally just like it always has. It's like nothing has changed at all. Although, I do keep noticing Mercedes watching me intently like she never has before. I keep having to glance down at my meal to keep my cheeks from flushing. Maybe... she does like me...

I climb into Mercedes's car after the meal, feeling like I'm about to pop at any moment. I'm absolutely stuffed. The food was just too delicious to not shovel heaps of it into my face. Now, I'm paying the price.

Mercedes starts the car and my voice drifts around us again. I'm not as bothered by it anymore now that I'm full. She turns the radio down to just a faint whisper and rolls the windows down so the sounds of cicadas and the traffic on the road join the soft music.

I lean my head back and stare out the front window as we drive. It's just about dusk and the sky is starting to fade to black, relinquishing its vibrant pinks and oranges. I watch the clouds drift by. The evening feels so peaceful. It's almost too perfect, honestly. 

We don't talk much on the way home. To be honest, I don't really want to talk. I'm starting to get a little sleepy and I just want to enjoy the night for what it is. Processing my first ever date with Mercedes is going to take me a minute so I'm fine if we're both quiet.

Finally, we're back at Mercedes's place. I find it a bit odd that she took me to her house, but it's not like I can't walk home. And maybe she does want to walk me the rest of the way home. Then we could do that cute movie thing where we kiss after our first date. Yeah, that would be a good way to end things. But... I don't know if I could kiss her. Should she kiss me? I don't know.

"Will you buy me booze?" I ask, shifting in my seat to face her. 

"Why would I do that?" she says with a laugh.

Her face is practically glowing as she looks at me, her eyes bright. I can feel my body heating up in response, and not just in my cheeks this time. I seem to be wanting her more and more the longer we sit in the car. I'm not sure how much more I can take.

I fidget in my seat and steel my nerves. "I might need a bit of courage to kiss you."

She blinks a few times as if that wasn't the answer she was expecting. A small smile spreads across her face. I know she thinks what I said is funny, maybe even cute or childish, but she's not laughing at me. Her smile is tender and loving. I don't think she's ever smiled at me like that before. My stomach twists.

"Who says you'll be the one kissing me?"

For probably the hundredth time this evening, I can't meet her eyes as my cheeks flare up red in embarrassment. Maybe she's right that I won't be the one kissing her but I want to be. And I'll feel silly if I don't initiate anything. She's already got loads more experience in everything than I do and I don't want her to think I'm completely inexperienced—even though I kind of am.

"So is that a no to booze then?" I ask, trying to bring another laugh out of her.

She doesn't laugh this time. Instead, her face is almost a little too serious. "If you get drunk, I won't be able to finish up my plans for the evening."

I swallow and my eyes go wide. "P-Plans...?"

Mercedes reaches over and rests her hand high on my thigh. The look she gives me is nothing less than a mix of adoration and lust. My heart nearly stops at the sight of her. If I had any reservations, they're gone now. Mercedes could probably ask me to do just about anything right now; and, I would if it meant I could have her keep looking at me like that. I bite the inside of my cheek.

"I was hoping you would come up," she whispers, her hand sliding even higher up my thigh. "What do you say?"

"Y-Yes... please."

I suppose this should be weird. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I can hear Mercedes saying she has a girlfriend. I had gotten so wrapped up in wanting to sleep with her that I didn't ask if Ingrid was okay with this part. They had agreed to a date as far as I knew, but I didn't ask about sex. I didn't think we'd get this far so it didn't cross my mind. And now all I can think about is Mercedes's lips on my skin as she drags me into her bedroom.

She pushes me back and I fall onto her bed, bouncing slightly. It's been a long time since I've laid in Mercedes's bed. It feels familiar but it doesn't calm me in the slightest. My chest aches from my pounding heart. I want her to touch me to make sure it's all real.

She flips the lamp on her bedside table and the room is suddenly filled with low light. I watch as Mercedes makes her way around the room, grabbing supplies, I guess. It's hard to make out what anything is as she gathers them up but it looks to be a bottle of lube, a vibrator, and a... a strap... A rather large one at that.

Sweet Jesus, pray I survive this night.

She sets all of her things on the side table and then lies beside me on the bed. "Ready?"

I take a deep breath. "As I'll ever be."

She chuckles and reaches over, running her hand across my chest. Everything in my body tenses. I feel like I can barely breathe. How long have I wanted this for?

She pulls me closer to her and she starts to kiss my neck. I can feel her breath on my skin. The hair on the back of my neck is standing on end as I'm hyperaware of every part of her that is touching me. She's kissing me so lightly and I want her to do it harder. The words are stuck in my mouth. I've never asked for anything before. My first time was so experimental that I didn't know what I wanted. I shift as I let out a soft, "Mmph," and bring my hand up to run through her hair.

I don't know if that communicated to her what I wanted but she starts to get a little more intense. She's started to use her teeth a bit more, nipping at my skin, and her hand is now feeling me over my shirt. I feel like I'm being pulled in two directions as the lower half of my body starts to perk up and beg for attention. But I don't want her to stop teasing my chest just yet so I try to ignore it as best I can. Letting out soft moans seems to help distract me from some of my eagerness. 

Suddenly, she sits up and pulls me into her lap. She unbuttons my overalls and lets them fall around my waist before lifting my shirt off my body. Her hands glide easily up my skin making my breath short. She reaches around me and my bra joins my shirt on the floor. Her eyes eagerly take me in; I briefly think about how if Mercedes had been my first-time years ago, there isn't a doubt in my mind that I wouldn't have lived to tell the tale. Even more experienced in my emotions as I am now, her hungry gaze makes me shiver. I want her to eat me up and tear me apart like her eyes say she wants to.

Her hands reach up and greedily grab my breasts. My toes curl and I bite my lip. Her hands are warm and a little sweaty, not that I'm fairing well in the sweat department either. As she cups them, I feel her hands slip through the sweat under my breasts. It's embarrassing, to say the least, but it doesn't slow her down in the slightest. She starts rolling my nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, buttering me up. My nipples had been hard since we started but now they're almost achingly erect as she teases and teases them.

As she gives me a moment of reprieve and lets me sit back, she takes off her shirt and bra. Her large breasts fall out of her bra and jiggle as they settle into place. I can't help but stare. I'm not much of a boob girl—I prefer stomachs and thighs—but never have I ever wanted to bury my face into another woman's chest more than I do at this moment.

Mercedes seems to read my mind. She lies back and cups her breasts as if offering them up to me. She's incredibly sexy and I know that she knows it too. Her lips part just the perfect amount and her half-lidded eyes say, 'Take them if you want.' I happily oblige.

My mouth takes one of Mercedes's nipples while my hand works the other. Mercedes breathes deeply, not yet pushing out a moan. I swirl my tongue around her nipple, sucking gently at the end. This time she lets out a small grunt that softens into a breathy moan, her hips pushing up into me. I smile inwardly. I've never heard a sweeter sound than her moans. I want her to make more for me.

Her hands tangle into my hair and she pulls me across her chest to give a little TLC to her other nipple. She's pushing into me more frequently, trying to find something to give her some relief, and she's given up trying to suppress her soft moans. Our bodies stick together as we move and I can taste the sweat on her as I leave her nipple to kiss and bite other parts of her chest.

I'm practically drunk as I take in every part of her: her soft skin against mine, the hair on her pillowy stomach, her beautiful breasts that I can't get enough of. Even her sweat and the faint scent of the restaurant have me head over heels. She pulls me back up and we begin to kiss again as her hand presses against my crotch. I eagerly grind against her, my head too full of her to do anything rational. All I want is for her to bend me over the bed and fuck me hard into the mattress. I want to be hers.

Just as I'm about to try and ask her to do so, the door to the room opens and light from the hallway spills into the room. We pause as the lights in the room flick on and we're suddenly plunged into blinding light.

"Oh... Shit," says the newcomer.

I've already thrown myself off of Mercedes and pulled the blanket up around myself. Standing in the doorway is a woman. She looks confused more than anything and quickly fishes her phone from her pocket.

"Whoops. That's my bad, guys. I didn't read your text right," she says looking between me and Mercedes. "Didn't realize you were bringing her here."

Her gaze settles on me and I try not to shrink under it. She must be Ingrid. Mercedes did mention they lived together. She looks a little different from the photo Mercedes showed me, but I can still tell that it's her.

She's pretty. Her blonde hair is chopped to her chin and her bangs are pinned up on top of her head. A bow of some sort is tied to the back of her head, protruding out like little cat ears. That, combined with her soft face, gives her an incredibly cute, large-eyed look. It's hard to tell anything about her basic body shape since she's wearing a bulky sweater despite it being nearly eighty degrees in the house. My mood sours just looking at her.

"You're cute," she says to me. "I like your hair."

I can't help but blush. Liking my hair seems like a pretty pale compliment when I'm sure she saw most of what I'm working with. How can she pay me a compliment anyway when I was just about to let her girlfriend rail me?

"U-Um... thanks," I mutter. "You're not half bad yourself."

Mercedes, who has been quiet up until this point, climbs out of bed and goes over to Ingrid. She loops her arms around her waist and kisses her softly.

My heart seizes in my chest. We were just about to have sex and now she's kissing someone else? I swallow the rising distress as best I can. I knew this when we started. I can't be upset now.

Ingrid pulls away first and glances awkwardly in my direction. I'm not glaring at her, but I wouldn't say my gaze is kind either. She seems to be able to read the room better than Mercedes can. Still, I catch her eyes flick over Mercedes's body and I see her jaw twitch. She probably wants to join in, but she steps to the door.

"I'll be in the living room," she says quietly, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. "I'm terribly sorry for interrupting." With one last longing glance at Mercedes, she leaves the room and makes her way down the hall.

Mercedes closes the door and then comes back to sit on the bed. She looks like she's trying to compose herself again. I guess Ingrid threw off the mood for both of us. And maybe she's a bit more embarrassed about being walked in on than I would've thought.

"Do you want to continue?" she says after a moment.

I shake my head. "Um... I think I'm okay."

As much as my body would love to, I don't think I could put myself back into the mood. Especially when I know Ingrid is just down the hall and can probably hear everything we do. Even if we were to continue, I'm not sure I could get Ingrid off my mind.

"I understand," Mercedes murmurs, clasping her hands in her lap. "I'm sorry. Do you want to go somewhere else and try or is the whole mood off now?"

"The whole mood..." I sigh and slump forward. "Sorry."

Mercedes gives me a soft look and kisses my cheek. "That's alright, Annie. If it's any consolation, I would've planned a much better first meeting for you two."

That doesn't make me feel much better. To be honest, I didn't want to meet Ingrid at all. At least not any time soon. For a moment, I had forgotten about her completely and was living in a dream where I had Mercedes all to myself. Of course, reality has always had a way of slapping me across the face when anything good happens. I suppose this is just as well.

"I'll walk you home," she adds.

Mercedes drops me off at the back door to the bathhouse. I'm standing awkwardly on the step, my hands shoved into my pockets, waiting for us both to say goodbye. She looks at me, her expression a fairly neutral emotion. She doesn't seem upset about what happened.

I'm sure my face isn't as controlled. I know I'm tired and I'm hurting. I've never had as good a poker face as Mercedes. I guess she can take that for what it's worth.

"Well, goodnight," I mumbled as I go to reach for the door handle.

"I'm sorry," she says.

"Why are you sorry?"

I turn back to her. She's twiddling her thumbs and looking slightly more upset than before. Her eyes glisten in the streetlight. This is probably the most nervous I've ever seen her look. She's usually so calm and collected like the world bends to her will and not the other way around.

"I know you want me to either outright reject you or accept you and only you," she says. "I just don't... I just don't work like that. I love you so much and I love Ingrid so much. I couldn't possibly choose between you and I never want to. I don't expect you to understand and I certainly don't expect you to be on board with it. It's just... that's how it is. So... goodnight."

She skips up the few stairs to me and pecks my cheek. My heart flutters and I think about how this is all I had ever dreamed about. She gives me a long look before turning and heading off back to her place. I watch her go, my cheek stinging from her kiss.

Everything feels heavy and I silently curse that I have to make the climb up to my room. 


	4. A Case of the Ingrids

I wake up early in the morning despite everything. The sun has just started to rise and peek in through my curtains. My eyes feel like lead is weighing them down and my brain is fuzzy. I'm exhausted, to say the least, but my body is wide awake. I couldn't go back to sleep even if I wanted to. Plus, I kinda have to pee.

I already have a message from Mercedes. It's simple, no-nonsense. It just says, 'If you have time today, I'd like to talk to you.'

I bury my face into my pillow. I know I can't avoid talking about this, though it's tempting to just shove my feelings to the side and plow through it like I always do. But at this point, my feelings are so jumbled up that I don't know what I should shove down. The issue isn't as cut and dry as me just forgiving Mercedes. There's so much to think about and my head already hurts.

I lie there for a moment, letting my eyes get used to being open again. I can only wonder what I'm going to do for so long, so I eventually haul myself out of bed and pull on a t-shirt. I catch a glimpse of myself in my mirror before my shirt's all the way on. I have a handful of hickeys. I'm not as proud of them as I feel like I should be...

I head downstairs. Mom's in the kitchen. She's standing at the kitchen counter, scrolling flippantly through her phone while trying to eat eggs on a burnt piece of toast. She looks a little more well-rested this morning, but her overall vibe still reads tired. I suppose it's better. She finally notices me and her eyebrows shoot up. 

"I thought you were spending the night with Mercedes," she says through a mouthful of toast. Her expression turns even more curious the longer she looks at me. She must've thought it strange that I came from inside the house and not the bathhouse.

"Oh, I wasn't feeling well so I went home last night." It's not even really a lie, right? I mean, I didn't feel well after everything that happened.

Her face grows more concerned and she comes around the counter to my side. She grips my upper arms, looks me up and down, and then asks, "Are you alright, sweetie?" 

For some reason, the question seems like she knows too much. Its tone implies that she's not asking about my physical well-being. I wonder if she knows what happened. If she read between the lines of what Mercedes was up to better than I did. Then again, Mom would never be so perceptive. It's probably more coincidence than anything.

I roll my eyes and pull away from her. "Yeah, I'm feeling better today. It was just a little headache."

She doesn't look totally convinced. She reaches out to me again and squeezes my shoulder. "Well, if there's anything you need, let me know."

I don't much like where this conversation is going—feels too much like she found out I had sex for the first time and is asking if I need protection—so I change the subject. "It's fine. Is there anything I can do to help out this morning?"

She looks thoughtful. "Well, there's always plenty to do around here. But if you have a headache, I wouldn't want you to push yourself."

"I'm fine," I assure her again.

We head downstairs to her office. She sits down at her desk and looks through a large stack of papers trying to find something. I honestly have no idea what any of the papers are for and I'm constantly questioning if any of them are that important. It seems like all she ever does is sift through thousands of sheets of paper a day. It looks exhausting.

"Well, the baths always need to be cleaned," she says as she pulls out a schedule. "Laundry needs to get done and—" She's cut off by a knock on the backdoor. She looks at me expectantly and I nod.

I thread back through the hallway to the door and open it up to see none other than Ingrid standing on the bottom step. I nearly close the door in her face but, thankfully, hold myself back from doing so. She looks at me with the gaze of someone seeing a casual friend. Like we're coworkers who get along swimmingly at work but wouldn't hang out outside of. She's wearing the exact same outfit I saw her in the night before, and it feels like she's mocking me or something. I don't think I deserve such bad karma. I'm not a bad person.

"Hey," she greets casually with a slight nod. 

"Hi..." My voice sounds bitter even to me.

"Um... I'm here to, uh, see your mom." 

I bite my snarky retort about her "seeing" my mom. I don't even want to entertain the idea that anyone is sleeping with Mom. Well, I guess, like, if she found someone then I wouldn't be mad about it. But definitely not Ingrid. God, if she was with a girl that was only two years older than me—

"If you could move," Ingrid presses. "I'm running behind as it is."

I shake myself out of my thoughts and head back down the hallway. Ingrid trails after me. 

Mom seems delighted to see Ingrid as we step into the office once again. I can't help but feel a stab of jealously. Mom has never noticed me walk into her office so quickly. At least not without me making a noise first or standing there for a long time. And she never looks so happy to see me. It's not fair.

"Have you two had a chance to meet yet?" Mom asks glancing between us. "I'm sure Mercedes told you about her girlfriend."

I dig my nails into my palm. I want to vent that I have, indeed, met Ingrid, and, no, Mercedes did not tell me about her; but, I don't want to tell Mom explicitly about my botched sexual encounter—even if I'm half-sure she somehow already knows. I look to Ingrid who is looking at me. It seems neither of us has a good enough story.

"We met briefly last night while I was with Mercedes," I say finally. "We didn't really get a chance to talk since I went home with a headache."

Ingrid nods and accepts my statement with no additional comment of her own. At the very least, she's willing to go along with whatever I say. That's nice of her. Then again, if she ratted me out to my mom, I think I might actually have to kill her. Maybe she can tell that much from my attitude.

"Ah," Mom says. "Well, Ingrid here is a real dear for us. She's been helping with cleaning duties since you left. She comes in almost every morning!"

I nod. I do not at all feel bad that Ingrid has taken my spot as Cleaning Girl. Nothing is quite as soul-destroying as scrubbing baths for three hours straight. If that's all she's here to do, she can have it.

"But since you're both here and you didn't get much a chance to meet, why don't you help her with the chores?"

I try not to pull a face. I think I'd rather die. I can feel Ingrid's eyes on me as she judges my reaction. She'll do what I want, I'm sure of it. Probably because she doesn't want to step on my toes. But shouldn't I be more worried about her toes? I mean, she has every right to be mad at me. If anything, my home has become more of hers than mine. That's a terrifying thought.

Then I remember Mercedes's text. "Oh, I was going to see Mercedes this morning." Using Mercedes as an excuse to not spend time with Ingrid seems counterproductive but, at this point, I don't really care.

Mom frowns. Probably because I offered to help and am suddenly changing my tune. "Okay... Well, at least help Ingrid get started with the laundry, please."

"Um, okay," I say half-heartedly. I guess as far as Mom knows, I have no reason to decline. Plus, she doesn't need any more reasons to be disappointed in me. I look to Ingrid. "Let's go."

Ingrid tails me out of the office. Since we can't walk side-by-side in the back halls she's walking a step behind me, and it's making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Her footsteps are heavy and clunky. If it were anybody else I wouldn't have noticed. Since it's Ingrid, it's grating on my nerves. I know she isn't trying to annoy me—and I know I'm being kind of a bitch about it—but it's everything I can to not yell at her.

"I'm sorry about last night," she says once we're far beyond earshot of the office. "Mercie's text just said that she was going out with you and you two may end up sleeping together. I suppose I didn't get the subtext that it would be happening at our place. I'm really sorry."

My face flushes and I'm glad that she can't see me. "It's fine..."

"And I didn't see anything if you don't want me to have seen anything." 

I roll my eyes. Well, that just means she saw everything. "I don't care."

"Oh, well, if you don't care, then why did you leave last night?"

Ingrid sounds like she really is confused as to why I would leave and that catches me off guard. I mean, she was there too, right? We saw the same scene play out. Wouldn't it be obvious why I left? But even though I feel like the answer should be obvious, I'm not sure how to answer her.

I really don't care that she saw anything. I'm not super sensitive about my body. For my entire life, roughly sixty percent of my bathing has happened in a public bathhouse with local old ladies fawning over how they miss looking like me. And, of course, the occasional girl my age and my friends. It's not like I haven't been naked around a whole plethora of people. For all I know, Ingrid could've already visited the bathhouse and seen my boobs and then some. So who cares.

It was really only embarrassing given the circumstances, but since she's around my age even that's not too big of a deal. I wouldn't have been too upset if, say, my roommate at school walked in on me or vice versa. It would be embarrassing, for sure, but I would move on pretty quickly. I guess it also doesn't bother me that she walked in on us at all. I mean, she had agreed to Mercedes having sex with me and she lives there. It seems like maybe it was inevitable.

The more I think about it the more a hole is opening up in my chest. And, as I dig deeper, I'm afraid to find that Ingrid might not be the problem with what happened last night. I don't know if I want to admit that Mercedes is.

But... I was having a good time, wasn't I? Sleeping with Mercedes, isn't that what I've always wanted? At the very least, I said yes when I could've said no. Should I have said no...? But if I did say no, what would've happened? I can't imagine that Mercedes would be so shallow as to let that ruin the evening; but, at the same time, she did suggest it when I was perfectly content only wanting a kiss.

But if I only wanted a kiss... wouldn't that be childish of me? I mean, you don't have to have sex on a first date, but Mercedes and I weren't really on a first date. We have more history than that. But even so, I just wanted her to kiss me. Maybe give me a long hug too. But I wasn't thinking about having sex...

I don't know. Maybe we weren't ready. Or at least, I wasn't. 

I guess sex with someone you love is different. I've only had sex a couple of times and mostly with my ex-girlfriend. I liked her, sure. But I don't know if I would go so far as to say that I loved her. I mean, we broke up only two months in. And I've never had a hookup before so I also haven't not liked the person I've had sex with. Well, unless you count the guy I slept with near the tail end of junior year. But we were "dating" at the time. I didn’t like him but we were together in some sense.

Maybe I was too nervous to actually go through with it, but I was too caught up in everything to notice. Maybe I only left because Ingrid gave me the means to... All I can say for certain is that if I had wanted to have sex with Mercedes, I could have. And I didn't.

We've reached the laundry closet and all of my musings haven't led me to a solid answer for Ingrid. Thankfully, she hasn't pressed me for one. We step inside. It's a bit cramped for two and I'm slightly uncomfortable with Ingrid so close to me. All my swirling thoughts are already making me antsy and having another person so close is just exacerbating it. She closes the door and leans against it. I can tell that she's hoping for an answer. Not maliciously—I don't think she's trying to do anything backhanded—but she seems to be genuinely curious about my feelings.

"Does it bother you?" I ask trying to keep myself together. My voice is quieter and shakier than I would've liked but I try not to let it bother me.

"Does what bother me?"

"Me? This whole thing? I don't know..."

"Mercedes was honest with me so why should it? She's never not told me what she gets up to. I mean, she told me everything before we got together."

My chest tightens and my hands ball up into fists. Why does that annoy me so much? Because Mercedes wasn't honest with me first? Well, she was... sort of. She was upfront but I don't know if she was honest. She's never been very honest with me. She keeps so many secrets from me. She always has. I was always under the impression that I was just too young to understand all of the things she was doing and going through. But even as an adult, I feel she hasn't fully opened up to me. I mean, having a girlfriend for two months seems like something we could've talked about. She told literally everyone else about it. I mean my mom fucking knew before I did. But instead, she just drops that on me and then asks me on a date when I didn't even know she liked me! 

I... I still don't even know if she does... It's not like she's said it.

I pull myself back, trying to calm down. I've worked myself up. I'm more hurt and confused and angry and scared than I was this morning.

"Are you okay?" 

Ingrid's voice knocks me out of my thoughts. As I come back to myself, I feel dizzy all of a sudden. The room is uncomfortably hot but I feel cold. I'm sweating and everything is a bit blurry. I need to get out. I stumble forward a bit.

I feel Ingrid's arms wrap around me as she quickly moves to hold me up. Her arms are hard and hold me tightly to her. She's softer than I had imagined. At least, her torso is. She's almost squishy.

"Annette, are you okay?" she asks again. "You're really flushed."

I can barely make out what she's saying. My body, seemingly on its own, decides that it doesn't want to be held by Ingrid anymore. I push against her with all of my strength and shove her to the side. She lets me go easily, and I scramble my way to the door. I fling the door open, and the cooler air on the other side feels like an oasis.

I only manage two steps before I trip over my own feet and land flat on my face. Tears spring to my eyes but more because of my embarrassment than the pain, though I did take a good hit to the jaw. A few seconds later, Ingrid is pulling me into a sitting position. 

"Oh, shit. You're bleeding." 

I touch my hand to my mouth and it comes away bloody. As if my head isn't spinning enough, now blood's coming out of it. I'm not exactly sure where the blood is coming from as my entire jaw is in pain.

Ingrid hauls me back to the house. I'm more than capable of walking myself but she insists on helping me the entire way. She sits me down at the kitchen table, grabs a wet paper towel, and starts cleaning me up.

I swat her away. "I can do it myself," I grumble.

She hands me the paper towel to let me take care of it. I dab at my lip, which is where I think I'm bleeding from. There's a lot more blood than I thought. A lot more. I'm starting to panic a little because no matter how much I wipe, there's just more blood. My mouth tastes like blood. My heart starts to race. 

Ingrid has disappeared which only makes me panic more. Rationally, I know she probably went to the bathroom to look for a first-aid kit. But I don't know how, like, a band-aid could help in this situation. I'm gushing over here. My hand is starting to shake. God, why is there so much blood?

Ingrid comes back and takes me in. I don't know if she can tell that I'm freaking out, but she grabs a fresh paper towel and rushes to my side to help me again. This time I let her. I'm completely useless and my hands are too shaky to do much of anything. I squeeze my eyes shut and let her take over.

She's careful as she applies pressure to my face. Her hands are pretty calloused, but she's being gentle with me. She's telling me everything she's doing and trying to talk me out of my panic, but I'm hardly listening.

"Okay," she says after a minute. "Okay, you won't need any stitches or anything. It's slowing down." 

I open my eyes slightly. She's leaned over me looking intently at my face. She's a lot prettier up close.

Her bangs have fallen out of her pin and some strands are hanging in her face giving her a less put-together look. There are fairly dark circles under her eyes, but she doesn't seem to be tired. She's not wearing any makeup either. I guess that's not super surprising seeing as she was coming to do manual labor; but, I don't see many girls these days without even a little bit of makeup. Another startling feature is her eyes. They're insanely pretty. Like it's almost unfair how pretty they are. They're a darker green color that fades to a little ring of brown around her pupil. 

Her eye catches mine. I'm only able to hold her gaze for a moment before I have to look away. I'm only blushing because she's so close. 

"You're kind of a klutz, huh?" she says. Her voice is a bit gruff but I can tell that's her gentle voice.

I want to jerk up and yell a retort but she's holding my jaw tightly. It would definitely hurt _me_ more if I were to make a sudden movement.

"That's just what Mercie told me anyway."

I tense. "She... talks about me?"

"All the time." Ingrid pulls away and tilts my head to assess my injury again. She nods. "Might sting for the rest of the day but you'll live."

I gingerly touch my hand to my lip and it, thankfully, comes away blood-free. "Thank you..." I mumble. 

Ingrid has already crossed the kitchen and is washing her hands in the sink. "No problem. Though I'm a little behind on my cleaning schedule now." She sighs and shakes her head. "Plus, I'll have to clean up the blood in the hallway."

"I'll help." I pop up from my chair and walk over to the sink to rinse my hands and face and wash my mouth out. "Um, it's the least I can do after messing everything up."

"Weren't you supposed to be going to talk to Mercie?"

I freeze up mid-water-to-face-splash. "Well, uh, I mean, she can wait a little longer. She'll understand."

Ingrid leans against the counter, drying her hands slowly. She looks very nonchalant as she says, "Whether or not you two make up doesn't really involve me. Well, like, tangentially it does. But I don't have much a stake in your actual friendship. However, I would highly suggest you talk to her. Regardless of what conclusion you come to, you both need to hear what the other has to say."

I can't even be mad at her for saying anything. She's right. And I do plan on talking to Mercedes. But I'm still a little light-headed from bleeding out everywhere and I realize I haven't even eaten anything this morning.

"I'll talk to her," I say as I finish washing my face. "I just... need a minute to process all of my emotions. You don't know what I'm going through."

Ingrid lets out a short, humorless laugh. I suddenly feel very embarrassed for having said that. Of course Ingrid understands at least a little what I'm going through.

I pull up from the sink and smile awkwardly. "Er, I meant that you don't... You just haven't..."

She shakes her head. "It's fine. Well, your mom is probably wondering where we got off to. She might be worried about us."

"Probably not," I say.

Ingrid looks confused, her head tilting to the side. 

"My mom hasn't wondered where I've been since I was, like, five years old and my dad—er, um, nevermind. I want to change my shirt. It's got blood on it." I pull on my shirt to show her the spot before quickly crossing the room to the doorway that leads down the hall.

She follows me. "D-Do you need me to come with you or should I go back to work?"

The uncertainty in Ingrid's voice is almost charming. But I still find it hard to believe that she's all that worried about me. Although, I guess she did fix me up... And I can't help that that's softened me up a little bit. I mean, I've always been weak to a strong woman taking care of me. Not that she needs to know that.

I wave my hand. "If you want to go back to work you can, but I'm not going to stop you from slaking off."

I continue on my way and Ingrid's clunky steps follow me. We head down the hall and I pull down the rickety ladder that leads to the attic. Ingrid's look tells me that she does not understand why I have pulled this ladder down from the ceiling. 

"My room's up there. Careful on the way up. The ladder doesn't reach all the way to the floor and it's also not the most stable thing in the world. Just watch me do it."

I step onto the first rung of the ladder and Ingrid moves to watch me haul myself up. Why Mom ever let me have my bedroom up here is beyond me. It seems like it's very dangerous with this old ladder being the only way in or out. But I've never fallen. My luck holds as I pull myself up and turn to look down at Ingrid. 

I peer down at her through the hole. "Come on."

She starts her ascent; and, as she reaches the top of the ladder, she now understands the predicament of making the last bit of the climb and having to haul herself up. She looks at me asking what to do next.

I wiggle my fingers at her. "Just take my hand and I'll pull."

We lock our hands together and I help drag her the rest of the way up. She's heavier than I thought and her hand is super sweaty. I have to grab the back of her sweatshirt for fear of me accidentally dropping her. But we both fall into my room.

"And you do that every day?" she asks. She's lying on the floor beside me breathing a little heavier than she was before. I don't know if she's going to move any time soon.

"Multiple times. It gets easier."

I stand up and move to my dresser to find a new shirt. If I'm going to be helping Ingrid out around the bathhouse, I'll wear something easy to work in. I tug off my t-shirt and toss it into my dirty clothes. Ingrid makes a small noise behind me and I turn to look at her. She's sitting with her back to me and it's straight as a pole.

"What?" I ask.

"You're changing."

"So? You already saw my boobies. I'm wearing more clothing now."

She makes another strangled noise at the word 'boobies.' I can only imagine that she's blushing. "But that's different. That was an accident. I don't want to... Nevermind."

I shrug and start to rifle through my drawer figuring that it's best to not question Ingrid on this. Whatever she's comfortable with I guess. But she knew I was going to be changing so I don't know why she's acting so shocked.

"Do I bother you?" she asks suddenly.

I've just plucked a shirt from the drawer and my hands stop. I take a deep breath before answering. "Um... I thought you did but I don't know anymore. I don't really know you. I only learned you existed two days ago."

Ingrid spins around to face me so quickly she nearly knocks herself over. I instinctively clutch my shirt to my chest, her quick reaction startling me. "Two days? We've been dating for two months."

I laugh nervously. "Yeah, well, imagine my surprise."

She looks away from me, her face pensive. "I'll meet you back downstairs. I just wanted to make sure you made it to your room okay."

"Um, okay? Just be careful on your way down." I turn back toward my dresser as Ingrid starts her way back down.

It only takes a few seconds before I hear Ingrid yelp followed by a loud thud. I rush to the hole and look down. Ingrid is rubbing her back and looking pained. I'm not sure how far she fell from, but probably most of the way down. That can't feel good.

"Are you okay?" I call. "I told you to be careful."

She gives me a thumbs up. "I'll walk it off," she says in a pained voice. "Take your time." She slowly climbs to her feet and wobbles out of view.

I shake my head. "And she called me a klutz."

Ingrid and I are scrubbing the men's bath down. After eating a quick snack, I'm feeling much better. My mouth still hurts, but I'm not complaining. The repetitive nature of scrubbing the tiles is calming. I'm barely keeping myself from bursting out into song like I normally do. It would just be too embarrassing to sing the Scrubbing The Men's Bath song. There's a good chance Ingrid already knows I sing silly songs since Mom isn't the best at keeping embarrassing things secret. But that doesn't mean I want her to hear me do it. 

Despite that, I'm feeling more comfortable around her by the minute. Something about the monotony of scrubbing a floor with her has brought me a sense of peace and comradery. Plus, I think she understands me more than I thought she would. I thought she would take Mercedes's side, but she is pretty neutral if not slightly in my corner. I know she wants us to come to our own conclusions about our relationship without her swaying either of us. I can admire that.

As we finish up the men's and make our way to the women's, her heavy footsteps don't bother me anymore. I've grown used to her stomping around. She splashes a bucket of soap onto the floor of the women's room and we get back to scrubbing. It's quiet again aside from the scrape of our brushes against the tile and the dripping of water. 

"Mercie said you like horses," I say, my voice bouncing around the walls.

With every passing moment of silence, I'm starting to think about Mercedes again. I don't really want to. Talking to Ingrid seems to by my only salvation. Plus, I might as well try to get to know her better if I'm going to be stuck doing chores with her all summer.

"Yeah," she responds. "They’re cool."

"Do you ride?"

Ingrid looks over at me as if wondering why I'm bothering to ask her at all. But she just shrugs and says, "Sometimes. Not as often as I used to. It's an expensive hobby and I can't put as many hours into the barn as I could in high school."

"Were you good at it? Erm, um, like did you compete or whatever? I don't know much about riding."

"I have some first place ribbons," she says with a smile. "Though, I wouldn't say I was amazing. There are plenty of other people better than me."

"Well, someone's always going to be better than you. That's why you keep learning and improving. If you were the best, why bother?"

She laughs. "I guess that's one way to look at it. But like I said, it's harder to find the time and money to participate. I'm happy to have had the time I did, but I don't miss it that much."

I nod slowly. The room falls silent again. We continue scrubbing. Jeez, it's so awkward. 

"So are you—" I start to say as Ingrid says, "Listen, Annette—"

We both pause. There's another long stretch of silence.

Ingrid goes first. "About talking to Mercie... If you need a few days, I can let her know that you're not mad, but you just want to process your emotions first."

I pause in my scrubbing. "You would do that?"

"Of course. I want you to be able to process everything before you go talk to her. It was probably rough with everything going on so you should get all the time you need. I don't want her to think you're mad at her because then I'll have to listen to her whine about it. But, yeah... Um... as much time as you need."

It feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I didn't want to talk to Mercedes after the day I was already having. I don't think my poor little heart could take it. "Thank you, Ingrid... I want to talk to her. I'm just still... confused."

"I'll be honest that it's not easy. And maybe you don't want to talk to me about it, but if you do need too... I'm... you know... in the same boat as her. So, like, I could... just talk to you. At the very least, listen. I mean, I know you may not want to but—"

"Ingrid," I say cutting her off. "Thanks."

She gives me a shy half-smile. "Um, w-we should check on the laundry."


	5. Just Be Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woof hello.  
> Sorry it's been a uh month and a half since updating lmao. I've been having some seriously bad writer's block. Also life just hurts. And I wasn't feeling very confident in this chapter at all. But finally it is here.  
> So big thanks to my friends Tansy and Quorn for giving it a read through and helping out.
> 
> I have several chapters in the works so fingers crossed that I will update more regularly at least for a few more chapters.
> 
> Thanks for holding in there. I hope you enjoy.

It's been a few days, closer to a week. Time has kinda been a little funny lately, what with the monotony of doing pretty much the same thing every day. I finally feel like I'm ready. Well, maybe not ready, but I've given everything a lot of thought. I've sorted through my feelings; I know I can at least face Mercedes without losing my resolve. Or... I hope I can. Maybe that's asking a lot of myself. I'll, at the very least, give it my all. That's got to count for something, right?

I get out of bed. I do my makeup. I fix up my hair. I get dressed. I check myself out in the mirror. I look nice. I sit on my bed. I scroll through my phone. I avoid looking out the window. I waste time. God, I'm so nervous. My stomach feels like it's about ready to exit stage left.

I don't know what I'm even nervous about. It's not like Mercedes is mad at me—Ingrid told me as much. Ingrid said she felt bad about what happened; I'm sure that's true because Ingrid doesn't seem the type to cover Mercedes's mistake like that. We're only going to talk about our feelings. Mercedes will more than likely apologize and make her case. I'll give her a wishy-washy answer about dating, and we'll laugh about it. Then we can just spend the rest of the summer like normal. Not dating. Me hopelessly pining like usual. And, uh, Ingrid can be there too.

I haven't exactly slotted her into my fantasy yet. Our relationship is kind of weird right now.

We've been spending so much time together that I'm starting to like her. Not like I like Mercedes, but I've definitely warmed up to her. She's actually pretty cool. She's, like, really smart but, simultaneously, one of the dumbest people I've ever met. She has a fairly dry sense of humor that's really funny, but she's prone to telling horrible dad jokes too. She told me she's a handyman of sorts. Apparently, she has certifications in lifeguarding, HVAC, and pool maintenance among other things. Right now, she's just working fixing up little things here and there for the restaurant and helping my mom.

I want to spend more time with her outside of scrubbing dirty baths together. But, of course, Mercedes and I aren't talking so Ingrid has been forced into being our middleman. I'm not exactly sure what sort of position she's going to get once Mercedes and I sort everything out. Maybe I'm nervous that if I turn Mercedes down Ingrid won't want to talk to me anymore. Or would it be weird if we all hung out together and I was, like, the third wheel that could've been part of the group? Or is it weirder if I just want to hang out with Ingrid and not Mercedes?

It's not like Ingrid and I are friends necessarily. We only met because of Mercedes. So if we hang out without Mercedes, is that poor form? I'm really not sure.

"Annette!"

Ingrid calls up for me from below and knocks me out of my swirling thoughts. I forgot to tell her I wouldn't be helping with chores this morning. She's probably looking for me and wondering why I'm late. I didn't exactly want to see her before I talked to Mercedes, but it's my fault for dragging my feet so much. Her head pops up through the floor and she gives me a quizzical look.

"Oh," she says. "You are awake. And you look a little too nice to be spending your morning scrubbing floors. Hot date?" Her head tilts to the side and her bow bobs behind her.

Every day I spend with her, I'm starting to realize more and more what Mercedes sees in her. She's incredibly cute and she doesn't even know it. Her only downfall is she never says the right thing.

"Not exactly," I murmur. My face is flushed, and I'm trying not to shrink into myself at the words 'hot date.' "I was, um, going to talk to Mercie... maybe..." I nervously play with my fingers and I'm finding it hard to make eye contact with her.

"Oh. Do you... uh, need anything from me?" She scoots herself up further as if she's going to climb into the room.

I shake my head quickly and wave a hand at her. "No, no. I'm okay, I think. I was just giving myself a pep talk."

"Cool, cool... um, yeah, okay." She looks about as awkward as I feel. I can only imagine what millions of thoughts are going through her head. "Good luck. If you need to talk to me after, you have my number... Or you know where to find me." She nods once, adds one last, "Cool," then slides back down the ladder out of my room.

I sigh. Unfortunately, Ingrid did not make me feel any more motivated to go to the restaurant. But, at least now I've spoken the words out loud. If I don't go, someone will hold me accountable. I guess I don't have much of a choice.

The restaurant is busier than I was expecting it to be. There are quite a few people eating breakfast and even a few still waiting on their meals. It's a menagerie of people. Old and young, parents and children, singles and couples. It seems like everyone wanted to visit the restaurant this morning. A couple of kids scoot by me on their way out of the restaurant, laughing and goofing around. I wish I could be as carefree as them.

Mercedes, Emile, and their younger sister are all working on the floor, chatting up the current tables they're waiting. It's a rare sight to see all three children at work and a good sign that the restaurant has been busy for a while. Emile spots me first and nods towards the back hall. He's probably telling me to hit up the break room so I'm not tying up a table. I wave to him and make my way to the back.

I take a seat in the break room. It's much quieter back here, the only noise coming from the hum of the employee fridge. I can hear the clinking of dishes and dining from down the hall, but it's so faint I have to focus to hear it. The squeal of the chair against the tile as I scoot it forward echoes around the room reminding me just how quiet it really is. I think I would've been more comfortable sitting in the dining room. Now, I'm alone with my thoughts and it's only making me more and more nervous.

It's only a minute or two before Emile finally comes back to see me. He looks a little disgruntled and his hair is falling out of his ponytail. Obviously, he's working very hard. Despite his somewhat sour look, I know he prefers when the restaurant is busy. He likes to be kept moving.

"Busy?" I say casually as he falls into the seat across from me.

He heaves a sigh as he flips to a clean page in his order pad. "Unfortunately. It'll take a little bit to get your order together. What can I get for you?"

I suppose I might as well eat while I'm here even if that wasn't my original intention. "Um, I'll just have a ham and cheese omelet with toast. And can I get orange juice?"

He nods and scribbles my order down. "Yep."

"Oh, and could you let Mercedes know I'm here to talk to her when she gets a chance? No rush on either thing though. You're busy."

He nods again and stands. "I'll have her bring your food when it's ready." He stretches and gives me a defeated look. "Time to get back to cheesing up old people for scraps."

I smile sympathetically. "Good luck," I call as he leaves the breakroom. "Do your best."

And I'm alone again. The room is quiet. My leg is bouncing nervously and I just want to get this over with. Of course, the one time I need to come over, the place is busier than it ever is. I sigh and rest my head on the table. I kind of wish Ingrid was here to keep me company. She'd probably tell me some lame joke while trying to make a straw wrapper move by dripping soda onto it.

I close my eyes and try not to think too hard about the inevitable conversation. Or about Ingrid. There's no point in worrying myself to death over anything. It'll all work itself out in the end, and the outcome isn't solely dependant on me. I guess the lack of control is as freeing as it is terrifying. 

I do wonder what Mercedes wants out of all of this. I suppose her end goal would be me being her girlfriend. But maybe that would just be her happy outcome. Maybe she's fine if nothing happens at all as long as I'm happy. But if I'm happy and she's not, then will I actually be happy? But if we do her happy ending and I'm not happy, then is she going to be happy?

Ugh, it's all so confusing. Why couldn't things just stay normal? Is it not enough for me to just pine wistfully for a girl that doesn't want me? But now she does and I don't know what to do about it. It's not like I have people falling at my feet to ask me out. I've only been asked out twice. Once by my ex and once by Mercedes. I don't know what to do in this situation.

What would things even be like if I were to date Mercedes? It's something I've wanted since forever but I've never really thought about what it would entail. What would we do? What would we talk about? I don't even know what a future with Mercedes looks like. I guess our first step is getting better at communicating. 

We kinda missed the mark on this one. Hopefully, this conversation will clear the air. I guess that would be the best outcome for all of this. 

Mercedes comes in carrying a plate of food and a glass of orange juice. She looks a bit spent as she sets it all down in front of me. I wonder how long she's been on her feet. She usually helps with all of the prep work, which can start as early as five in the morning. And it's noon currently.

"Here you go," she says quietly. Her quietness seems like it's more of a result of her tiredness than her being nervous to talk to me.

I sit up and give her a weak smile. "Thank you."

She takes a step towards the chair on the other side as if contemplating whether or not she wants to sit down. She looks intently at me. "Emile said you wanted to talk."

"It might be a while, is this a good time?"

"I told them I was going to go for a break. I haven't sat down all morning. I suppose I shouldn't go past fifteen minutes, but I can be a little flexible."

I nod and Mercedes slips into the seat across from me. Her face looks relieved as she sinks into the chair. Once she settles in, she fixes me with one of her usual soft gazes. I can already feel my heart starting to pound.

"Sorry for... needing a little bit of space," I start with.

She shakes her head. "No, don't apologize. I sprang that on you without a good warning. That was my fault."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner? About Ingrid."

"Well... I really wanted to tell you in person. And I wanted to make sure that Ingrid and I worked out before letting you in the loop. I didn't want to tell you, then we break up, and then have to bother you with the fact that it was over. It seemed... unimportant at the time."

"It was kinda important," I mutter. I let out a short sigh. "Mercie, look, you can tell me these things. You don't have to keep secrets from me. I'm supposed to be your best friend. And as your best friend, I'm stoked that you've found a girl that you adore. Honest. I'm not going to be bummed out just because she wasn't me, okay? You don't have to always look out for my feelings. I'm a big girl."

Mercedes looks away for a moment, biting her lower lip as she thinks about what to say next. "I'm sorry, Annie... I know you're not a little girl anymore. Sometimes it's just hard for me to move past the fact that you really don't need me to protect you anymore. I've been there for you your whole life."

"I know. And you don't have to stop taking care of me. In fact, please don't. You know Mom's a horrible cook." Mercedes laughs and nods. "But I want you to tell me things," I continue. "I mean, if you had broken up with Ingrid, were you just going to go through that alone? Without your best friend? How horrible would that be? I'm the master of heartbreak."

She laughs again and gives me a small smile. "You have had some rough rejections, huh?"

I let out a puff of air. "You can say that again." I stir my straw through my glass and kick my feet as we sit in a moment of silence. "Um, Mercie... What changed?"

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"Well, you... you've never liked me before. And... well, now all of a sudden you want to date me? I mean, I'm flattered that you do, but it's like... it's been four years since I confessed and I got nothing in return."

She can't seem to meet my eyes, which is a flip to our normal script. I guess that makes sense since I'm asking her to admit she has some sort of a crush on me. She twirls a lock of hair nervously around her finger. I'm going to give her all the time in the world for her to put her thoughts together so this better be a damn good confession.

"When we started spending more time together again over the last year, I started to become rather fond of you." She fidgets in her chair. "I didn't think much of it at the start because I've always liked you to some degree. I thought maybe I was just getting a little flustered here and there because we are so close and I know you like me. Then you went away to school and I... I really missed you." She looks up at me again and her eyes are big and beautiful. I can tell she's being honest with me and that her confession is taking a little more out of her than I think both of us thought it would.

"Why didn't you tell me anything then? Why not ask me out before you had a girlfriend?"

Her face is flushed now. "I was going to ask you out this summer. But Ingrid... fell into my lap. And she sort of stole my heart before I knew it. I considered not asking you out at all because I didn't want to get you involved. But, at the same time, I wanted to at least try... It wasn't like, just because I was with Ingrid, I had forgotten about you."

I take a moment to let all of that sink in. So Mercedes had been planning on asking me out all along... That's such a weird thing to think. I wonder how things would've gone had Ingrid not been in the mix. I still don't know if things would've gone so smoothly. Mercedes makes me feel so many things. I thought maybe I'd be ready for them, but I'm definitely not.

"Ingrid and I talked a little bit about it," I say, "so I understand a bit better. I guess I've never really thought about dating multiple people because you're really the only one I've ever liked."

"I'm sorry for hurting you and rushing you into things. I shouldn't have taken you on a date like that. That was really stupid of me."

"Yeah, it's okay. I accept your apology."

She nods slowly. "Um... Can we... go back to being friends and talking again?"

I sit back in my chair. When I started this conversation, I had no idea where it was going to go. I definitely wasn't expecting Mercedes to suggest we go back to being friends. I was mostly convinced she would ask me out again and I would have to say no. Though, I suppose I shouldn't argue since this is what I wanted. It just isn't making me very happy. My stomach is squirming a bit and I want to run out of the restaurant. I don't even know where I would go. I don't particularly feel like going home. Ingrid's there.

"Yeah..." I say finally with as much happiness I can muster. "That sounds good."

Mercedes smiles, but it's a little weak. Maybe she hears the hesitation in my voice, though that hardly has anything to do with her. Still, her posture relaxes and she leans forward, resting an arm on the table and her head in her hand. 

"I've missed talking to you," she says in a near dreamy voice.

My heart skips a beat or maybe three. "Me-Me too."

"I hope Ingrid hasn't been causing you any trouble."

I want to sigh, but I hold it in. The conversation doesn't have to turn to Ingrid so fast. We have other things to talk about, don't we? Well, I guess maybe not.

"Oh, uh, she's pretty cool," I say.

I don't want to let on how close I've gotten to Ingrid despite Mercedes probably already knowing. I mean, if she thinks I like Ingrid, I don't know how she's going to take that. Especially since I've turned her down in some sense. Besides, I don't like Ingrid. Well, _like_ like her anyway. I don't hate her by any means.

"I'm glad you're making friends!" Mercedes says with a more genuine smile. "She's pretty easy to get along with."

"Yeah. Plus, it's cool of her to be helping my mom out like that. Running the bathhouse isn't always easy."

"Oh, yeah. She offered when I said that your mom was looking for cleaning staff."

I nod and glance down at my breakfast that I haven't touched since we started. It's mostly involuntary, but my stomach is starting to gurgle a bit.

Mercedes must notice my glance. "Well, I'm really happy we talked about this and I'm happy that you're getting along with Ingrid. Obviously, I would've understood if you didn't like her, but it's always good to make new friends." She checks her watch and puts her hands on the table to stand. "Well, I should probably get back to work. If you want to hang out with us sometime, just let me know. I think we might be going to the movies soon. You're more than welcome to come."

"As friends?"

Mercedes nods and waves her hand nonchalantly. "Oh, yeah, absolutely. This isn't a romantically inclined outing. Just some friends watching a movie and maybe getting some ice cream after. You can say no, too. No pressure."

"Um, no, yeah—that sounds like fun."

"Cool! I'll let you know when we solidify our plans. Bye now." She gives me a little wave as she leaves.

I sink down the chair. I'm emotionally spent. And why would I agree to go out and be a third wheel? Am I stupid? Well, yeah, but God I thought I had half a brain cell.


	6. Theatrics

Emile groans as I hook my arm around his and lean against him. We—that is to say Mercedes, Ingrid, Emile, and I—have just arrived at the movie theater. The movie is on the later side with a start time of 8:45 PM. Emile is not at all pleased to be here and he has no issue letting that show.

It's not that I blame him. I did drag him here against his will. But, at the same time, I feel like, as my friend, he can suck it up and go on one very awkward hang out with us girls. Besides, I told him I'd shell out for a Figma if he just went along with us for the evening. Still, even with that lofty prize above his head, he's being a total ass. Just a giant pair of cheeks. 

"Why do we have to see _this_ movie?" he grumbles in my ear as our group reaches the ticket counter—Mercedes is gracious enough to pay for all of us.

The movie in question is not one I've heard of. I'm not much of a film buff or anything so that's not surprising. I hardly know what movies are coming out unless they're incessantly advertised to me on YouTube or something. However, apparently, no one's ever heard of this movie. It has only been out for a few weeks and there were only a few showings each day to pick from. I can only assume that means it's a bit of a flop.

Emile and I watched the trailer on the way over after learning this was the movie we were going to see. It didn't seem like the worst movie ever made but a total chick flick for sure. I, of course, also know who picked this movie. The main character is a woman jockey and she's attractive. It doesn't scream Mercedes to me.

"I'm sorry," I whisper back to him. "It's not my fault."

"I think it is," he continues. "Why am I even here again? Aren't you friends with those two? Can't it just be you three?"

I let out a sharp huff. "I don't want to be a third wheel, Emile."

He rolls his eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't fall out of his head. "You couldn't have asked Justine?"

I guess he has a point. It would make sense to ask the youngest Martritz out on this trip. But, at the same time, we aren't particularly close. We don't have that much in common and we hardly talk. I can't remember the last time I had a meaningful conversation with her. At least Emile and I have some common ground if there's an awkward silence. Besides, I can't be worrying about palling around with a seventeen-year-old who is way cooler than me when I've got too many other things weighing me down. Emile just seemed easier.

Of course, I failed to take into account just how awful he can really be when he wants.

"Listen, bucko, I think you should just enjoy the fact that your sister is treating us and you didn't work today." I poke him hard in the shoulder. "Isn't that nice?"

He rolls his eyes again as Mercedes calls to us to follow her to get snacks. We trod along still arm-in-arm.

Again, I don't blame him for being moody. I'm sure spending a night out with three girls, one of whom is his sister, isn't exactly thrilling. I'm sure he'd much rather be playing a game with his friends. Honestly, the fact I even got him out the door regardless of if bribery was involved seems like a massive win. Not to mention, I've been hanging on him like I need him for support—which I do—this entire time. And he doesn't even know why he's truly here.

We're friends, but we're not, like, share secrets kind of friends. I didn't tell him what happened. I can't imagine that Ingrid or Mercedes did either. He probably has no idea that anything happened between us three. He doesn't know that it's my fault we're awkward. He doesn't know I made myself a third wheel. That I turned down his sister. He knows I have a crush on her—that's a given. Would he even believe me if I told him that I turned her down? He'd probably laugh at me, thinking it was a joke, until he realized I was dead serious.

God, how embarrassing would that be?

It isn't even like I necessarily _want_ him here either. I just couldn't bring myself to go alone on a not-date with Mercedes and Ingrid. I couldn't sit there and watch them hold hands at the ticket counter. I couldn't stand two feet beside them and watch them pick out what size popcorn they wanted. I couldn't sit next to them knowing they were going to whisper their thoughts to each other on what was happening. I couldn't watch Mercedes grab Ingrid from behind and envelop her in a giant hug and nestle her face into Ingrid's neck.

"Ow," Emile says.

I shake my head quickly, tearing my eyes away from the scene unfolding in front of me as we wait in line at the concession stand. I've got Emile's arm in a vice grip. I look up at him without saying anything, but he's looking at Mercedes and Ingrid. His eyes glance in my direction just briefly.

"You know we probably look like a couple." He doesn't look at me as he says this, his eyes still fixed forward.

"Pffft, you'd be lucky to get a girlfriend half as cute as I am with your attitude," I scoff.

Another roll of his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. If I even wanted one."

To be honest, for once I'm okay with looking like Emile's girlfriend. It makes it look more like a double date than anything else. I can't imagine how awkward it would be if it was just Mercedes, Ingrid, and I. God, that would be embarrassing. Everyone would know I was with my friends who were clearly a couple and I was the odd one out. I don't even want to think about the pitying glances.

"You'll find someone else," Emile says now. His voice is, dare I say, gentle. "There are plenty of fish in the sea, or whatever."

I smile. It's definitely a half-hearted attempt to cheer me up, but it makes me feel better regardless. Emile is one of the most emotionally inept people I've ever met. The fact that he even acknowledged I have feelings is amazing for him.

"Thanks, Emile."

We finally make our way into the theater, snacks in hand. Emile bought me a slushie to be nice; I also think he was being judged by a few couples around us and that was rubbing him the wrong way. We find our seats. I'm in between Emile and Ingrid and Mercedes is on the other side of Ingrid. We settle in. There's still a bit of time until the movie actually starts. I'm very much aware of Ingrid's arm brushing mine as she takes up a large amount of real estate on the armrest between us.

I feel like my skin is on fire and it hurts to breathe. Am I having some sort of allergic reaction to Ingrid? No, that would be really stupid. It's not like we haven't had plenty of physical contact before. I just need to calm down, but I'm having trouble taking deep breaths.

I lean closer to Emile and he gives me a bored look. What happened to him caring about me? Clearly, I'm in some sort of distress. He opens his box of candy and pops one into my mouth. I immediately reel back and nearly spit it out. It's really sour. He gives me a wide grin and it's the happiest he's looked since he got here.

"You should finish it," he says. "Got your mind off things." 

I guess he's technically right but I'm nearly in tears. I can't handle sour candy in the slightest. I shake my head and cough out, "I can't."

He nods and holds a napkin out to me to spit the candy into. Instead, I grab his hand and spit into his open palm with a triumphant look.

His expression doesn't change. "This is why you're single," he says before putting the candy in his mouth.

I make a face "Gross... Remind me to never invite you out ever again."

"Maybe don't do it the first time," he suggests.

I almost smack him. Almost.

The movie starts. I wish I could say that the movie draws me right in and I don't think about Ingrid's arm touching mine every few moments. If I did, I'd be a liar. The honest truth is that I don't have a clue what's going on in the movie. I can't stop thinking about Ingrid.

We really didn't talk about what happened between me and Mercedes. That's one thing that's plaguing my mind. When I got home from the restaurant that day, I helped Ingrid finish up chores. She asked me how it went and I said it went fine. Ingrid, being the way she is, didn't press for many more details. The thing is, I know that Mercedes probably told her everything. But we haven't talked any more about it. Our days have been just as normal as ever.

I guess I just want to know how she feels. Is she disappointed at all? Does she still have any interest in being friends with me? She hasn't said anything explicitly and she hasn't seemed any different while we do the bathhouse chores. But... I don't know. She seems too nice to outright reject me. Maybe she's just playing nice to humor me. Maybe I shouldn't have agreed to go out with them. Maybe I'm ruining her date with Mercedes. God, I totally am, aren't I? Shit...

Another one of Emile's candies almost sounds good to get my mind off of things.

Instead, I reach towards the popcorn to try and quiet my thoughts with something salty. My heart is pounding and nervous jitters are running through me. At this rate, I'm going to have gray hair like my mom by the end of the summer. My hand goes into the bag and then I feel Ingrid's rough, calloused hand glide overtop mine. I freeze.

"Oh, sorry," Ingrid whispers to me. Her hand slides away. "Go ahead."

I glance over at her. She's absorbed in the movie again. She probably didn't even know I was there. Or did she? Was it a move? No, she wouldn't be that smooth. I-I don't think at least...

I can barely pull my hand out of the bag. I don't take any popcorn with me. I don't think I can muster that sort of high function. I feel like I've just stopped working. The same thought keeps running through my head.

Did she do that on purpose?

I lean over to Emile. "Switch seats with me," I hiss.

He gives me a long look that is nowhere near amused. I can understand his frustration fully, but it's not my fault that I can still feel the heat from Ingrid's hand on mine. If I don't move over now, I might explode.

"Please," I ask again. "I'm begging."

"I'm trying to enjoy the movie," he whispers back with a look that tells me I should go die. Little does he know, I just might. But if I do he is sooo going down with me. He's lucky I don't have the strength to wring his neck at the moment.

Instead, I give him a swift punch to the nuts. He jumps in his seat, brings his arm up, and hits me hard against the chest. I was mad before, but now I'm pissed. I punch him hard in the shoulder and grab him when he reaches out to hit me again. We're practically grappling with each other in the seats and have attracted the attention of our older party members.

"Knock it off," I hear Mercedes say in a hushed but stern voice. "Do we need to leave?"

I shove Emile off of me and am ready to sit still in my seat. He, on the other hand, has other ideas. He hits me hard low in my stomach. I let out a short gasp and double over. If I couldn't breathe before, I definitely can't now. 

"Alright, out," Mercedes says. "Both of you."

Our group stands and exits the theater. My stomach is still throbbing once we make it outside into the brightly lit hallway. I want to punch Emile again, but that doesn't seem like the right call. Mercedes is already mad at us.

"I feel like I'm a mother of ten-year-olds," Mercedes says sharply once Emile and I have lined up against the wall. I guess she's going to give us a public execution. I steel myself as best I can but my heart is already in my throat. "I've never had to leave a theater because you two got into a fight. I've never had to leave anywhere. So tell me why two twenty-year-olds can't sit still in a movie theater. I'm dying to know."

"She hit me first," Emile says. "She punched me right in the nuts."

Mercedes looks to me with a raised eyebrow.

"I just asked him to switch seats with me," I say quietly. "He was being an ass about it so I... did hit him first..."

I catch Ingrid's eye and she looks incredibly guilty. She looks away quickly. I want to tell her it's not her fault; then again, it kind of is her fault. I look down at my feet.

"I suppose we'll just go home then, since you two can't behave," Mercedes says with a shrug. "And we were going to go out for ice cream too." She looks a little disappointed but her expression also reads like there's nothing she can do about it. "I'll take you to the movies again, Ingrid. Since we didn't get to see the end."

Ingrid nods. She doesn't look like she's too upset about the movie. She keeps glancing in my direction and I feel like that's more telling than anything else.

We march out of the theater. Under his breath, I hear Emile say, "I didn't even want to come."

The car is quiet aside from the radio playing. Nobody is talking at all. It's eerie. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I nearly jump out of my skin.

> **Ingrid:** Hey um I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable in the theater. It was an accident.
> 
> **Me:** Oh no you're fine! Sorry for ruining the movie
> 
> **Ingrid:** That's okay. Mercie will take me again sometime. You're more than welcome to come again if you want to
> 
> **Me:** I might skip that one if it's alright
> 
> **Ingrid:** Didn't like the movie?
> 
> **Me:** Can't say it was my cup of tea
> 
> **Ingrid:** Fair enough. Next time we can go to one you like
> 
> **Me:** Yeah! For sure
> 
> **Ingrid:** And maybe let's leave Emile at home next time
> 
> **Me:** Yeah... Sorry about that
> 
> **Ingrid:** Hey he took it too far. Plus he's not my brother. No harm on my end. Mercie might chew him out
> 
> **Me:** I don't even want to imagine
> 
> **Ingrid:** Mercie can be kinda scary when she's angry can't she?
> 
> **Me:** Maybe a little lol but I didn't say that!

I can't help my smile. I turn toward the window so Emile can't see me. 

We arrive back at the restaurant and Emile is gone pretty much the second the car is parked. The rest of us head into the breakroom of the restaurant. I stand awkwardly at the edge of the room near the door while Ingrid takes a seat in a chair. Mercedes stands behind her and pecks the top of her head. My heart thumps.

"Shall I make us some dinner?" Mercedes asks. "Or I suppose it's more of a late snack." She's nuzzling the top of Ingrid's head and it sounds like she's talking only to Ingrid.

Doesn't really matter, I guess. I don't really feel much like eating. I don't think I deserve to either. I feel bad about Mercedes wasting all that money for us to not even finish up the movie. Making me dinner feels like a punch in the gut after how awful I've acted all evening. Or maybe I'm still just feeling the after-effects of Emile actually punching me in the gut.

"I... I can just go home," I say. "I'm sorry for ruining your movie."

"Nonsense," Mercedes says with a nonchalant wave of her hand. "Stay for dinner." She comes over to me and grips my biceps. "You may have been a brat today but that doesn't mean I like you any less."

I feel like I could throw up. Every emotion I can think of is spinning out of control in my head. It's like the worst carnival ride in the world and I've bought tickets to ride it all day.

"Th-That's fine and all... I just... don't think I deserve it."

Mercedes lets me go and I can breathe again. She smiles at me. "There's nothing about deserving to eat good food. You get to eat because it keeps you alive. Now, I'm going to make enough sliders for everyone. If you don't want to eat, I can't force you. But there will be plenty for you to have. I'll be back in a few." She leaves the room.

I sigh and take the seat across from Ingrid. I guess I can't leave now even if I wanted to. It seems rude to slip out without saying goodbye. I lay my head down on the table and try not to let my emotions eat me up. Ingrid doesn't say anything which I guess is good. I'm okay just sitting in silence for a little bit. I'm pretty drained from this evening, physically and emotionally.

"Make a goal," Ingrid says, finally breaking the silence. 

I pick my head up off the table and notice she's made one of those little paper footballs. I half-heartedly hold my hands up as a goal for her. She lines up her shot and flicks the paper at me. It goes wide and falls off the table.

"Damn," she says with a light laugh. "You try."

I pick up the football and line up my shot. I flick it and it barely goes through the goal, glancing off of Ingrid's finger and inside.

"Nice," she praises with a smile. "Okay, you can ask me any question you want and I have to answer honestly."

I blink in surprise. "Since when has that been a rule?"

"Since I just said so. I figure that we can learn something interesting about each other with this little game."

I sigh. What do I even want to know? My brain is too shot to think. I guess there's always the obvious question. The only question anyone ever wants to know the answer to. A question I want to know the answer to. And if she has to answer honestly...

"Do you like me?"

Ingrid nods. "Yeah, sure. You're cool."

"But that's not—"

"If you're not specific, I can interpret the question as I please. You asked if I like you and, yes, I do like you. I know that's not what you were asking, but that is one way to answer the question."

I frown. "This game sucks."

"Ask a more specific question then." She nods toward my hands. "Put your goal up."

I begrudgingly put my fingers up for her to shoot at. She makes it dead center and I get the feeling I've been played. I brace myself for the question. If she proposed this game, I can only imagine it's going to be a big one.

"What's your favorite color?" she asks. 

It takes me a moment to think as I'm completely caught off guard by the question. And when I do finally answer, my voice is shaky. "Um... sk-sky blue?"

Ingrid nods as if this is pertinent information.

I miss the next shot and Ingrid does as well, an apologetic look on her face. I know she's playing with me at this point, but I hardly care. We go again and I make my shot.

"What did Mercedes say about our conversation?" I ask this time. 

Ingrid looks surprised, probably having thought I was going to follow up with the same question. She doesn't look uncomfortable but also looks like she doesn't want to answer. I don't really want to put her on the spot like this, but I'm desperate to know. And since she offered this game up, I might as well take full advantage of it. Maybe her answer will be one less thing that's eating me up inside.

"Nothing much, really," Ingrid says slowly. "She didn't give me a big play-by-play or anything. Um... just... basically that you both agreed to be friends and that's it. That's fine with me. Like I said, whether you two made up didn't directly involve me. That said, I'm glad you're back to normal."

Yeah... Normal... I'm totally normal.

"She's probably disappointed I don't want to date her," I say with a sigh. "Did she say that?"

"She didn't. She was sad, but all rejections hurt."

My chest hurts and I can feel tears burning behind my eyes. I don't know why I feel so awful. It's like I can barely breathe. I manage to squeak out, "I don't want to hurt her."

I feel Ingrid's hand over mine, warm and calloused. "Hey, hey," she says softly.

I look up to try and focus on her face. It's a bit cloudy through my watery eyes, but she's smiling gently at me. Her eyes look so beautiful.

"Annette, you don't have to worry about hurting her, okay? Just because we like you doesn't mean you have to date us. There are no obligations and you don't need to feel bad for saying no."

I nod slowly and take a few deep breaths. She's right. There's no need for me to get so worked up. Dating is tricky and dating more than one person is trickier. I just need to calm down. Start over from the beginning. Take it slowly.

Wait.

Did she say 'we?'

' _We_ like you.' 'Date _us_.'

That's what she said, right?

I want to ask her to repeat herself, but Mercedes comes in carrying a plate of sliders. I quickly snatch my hand away from Ingrid and wipe my eyes before looking up at Mercedes. She doesn't seem perturbed by whatever scene she just walked in on. She smiles and sets the plate on the table. As usual, she's made way too many for the three of us. 

"Dinner for my girls! Well, my _girl_ and my girl."

I try not to visibly wince.

Ingrid's attention has been drawn to Mercedes again, a dopey smile on her face. Her eyes are lit up like a Christmas Tree and she's turned her body towards Mercedes—I can only assume unconsciously. My stomach turns.

How could she have said us? I just can't imagine Ingrid would ever look at me like that. Would I even want her to? And if she did like me, would I ever hold a candle to Mercedes in her eyes? She just seems so nonchalant about the whole thing...


End file.
